


Warm (There's Nowhere Else)

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Asshole Grisha Yeager, Coming Out, Hurt/Comfort, Levi being a sweetheart, M/M, Pastel!Eren, they go from strangers to trusting companions real quick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 11:19:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6751855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Grisha's a dick, Eren gets kicked out, and Levi just so happens to be the person he crashes into.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warm (There's Nowhere Else)

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning for a little bit of child abuse at the beginning.

“You have ten minutes to pack and get the hell out of my house before I beat the shit out of you and toss you out into the streets. I did not raise a _faggot.”_ Grisha Jaeger’s voice booms around the house, and Eren cowers.

He can’t believe.

He can’t believe it.

His own father, the one who raised him, is tossing him out because he’s gay. Because of something he can’t control.

Eren stares, and he can feel his heartbeat quickening as his eyes widen in disbelief. He observes with a sinking stomach as Grisha’s face turns red with rage, and Eren can feel the dread seeping into his skin. It’s painful to have someone who’s supposed to love you turn on you. Painful, and terrifying.

“D-dad,” Eren stutters, rooted in his spot as his body trembles. Grisha advances, slowly and predatorily, until he’s right in front of Eren, and his squinted eyes are so menacing that terror shoots through Eren’s body. His limbs, shaky, refuse to cooperate with his fight or flight instincts, and he has half the mind to scream.

“Get. Out.” Grisha growls, and with a massive, heavy hand, he shoves Eren backwards before Eren can even blink. The force of his shove is bruising, and Eren stumbles backwards, yelping. His hands reach out instinctively to catch himself, and he lands on the floor in disarray, his wrists twisting from underneath him. A sharp, painful ache shoots up his arm, and Eren can’t help his cry of pain.

“Stop,” Eren gasps, tripping to his feet as he backs away quickly, trying not to fall again. “What the fuck are you doing? Stop!”

“GET OUT!” Grisha roars, and Eren’s feet are finally moving, carrying him up the stairs two steps at a time, wheezing with each breath.

_Oh god, he’s being serious._

_Oh god, oh god, oh god._

Eren’s terrified, and his mind is so fuzzy that he can’t think straight. He throws his bedroom door open, and he opens the closet with such frantic movements that he can barely breathe.

_Ten minutes._

He has ten minutes, and it’s _not enough time._

Frenzied, Eren starts grabbing things off the hangers and he struggles to keep his panic at bay. His breaths are coming out in quick pants, and his legs are shaking so badly that he doesn’t even know how he’s still standing.

Duffle bag.

Where’s the fucking duffle bag?

He rummages through the closet, nearly hysterical, until he finally reaches what he’s looking for. The tattered duffle bag from his eight grade camping trip is much tinier than he remembers, but he doesn’t have much time to look for something else. As quick as his bruised hands and wrists can, he grabs the T shirts and sweaters from off the floor, stuffing them into the dusty, black bag.

Next, he goes through his drawers, taking whatever he thinks is necessary.

Four pairs of boxers.

Several pairs of Jeans.

The warmest coat he can find.

And a colourful arrangement of fluffy socks. Because those are a necessity and everybody knows it.

Biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, Eren looks around his room to see what else to bring, his stomach twisting and turning until it just feels like a worm infestation. And _Jesus fucking Christ,_ is he supposed to feel this dizzy?

Breaking out into cold sweats, Eren messily stuffs a couple of flower crowns into the duffle bag as well because he _can’t think._ And also, _priorities._

Breathless, Eren runs to the washroom, tossing a comb, a half-used tube of toothpaste, some floss, and his toothbrush into the bag, not even bothering to pause and look at where they land. Next, he’s flying back down the stairs, not pausing to look at his dad, and not pausing to go anywhere except for the fridge. He grabs anything he can find, ignoring his father’s angry screaming, and he throws several bottles of chilled water into the bag, nearly stumbling with the added weight. A couple of apples go in next, and some baby carrots and hummus are quickly tossed in.

For good measure, Eren also takes a bottle of bear, just to further piss his father off, before running for the door. He throws in an extra pair of shoes, not caring if they’re dirty, and slips his feet into a pair of slippers because he doesn’t have time to tie shoe laces. And also, _his dad is chasing him._

Grisha is _literally_ chasing him out the door, stomping down the hallway in a flurry of swears, and Eren’s terrified. With a choked scream of horror, Eren’s fumbling for the lock and throwing the door open, nearly keeling over with fear.

He thinks there’s bile in his throat, but he doesn’t have enough time to retch it out.

And then Eren’s running, and he’s running, and running, and running because he needs to get away. He needs to get away before he father _kills_ him. And by the livid look on Grisha’s face as Eren looks back for a second, he doesn’t even doubt it.

He just fucking books it, turning corners and streets until he doesn’t even know where he is and his father’s screaming fades out. He doesn’t know anything except for the fact that the plastic slippers are chafing, and that his bruised wrists hurt like hell. And also that the duffle bag is heavy as fuck, and he thinks his arms might snap with the effort. He’s never been very strong, after all.

It’s only when he’s a good four blocks away that he slows from a sprint to a jog, and then to a walk. The adrenaline is slowly fading, and his chest is burning with an intensity so strong that he doubles over, trying not to collapse. It’s only then, once his feet stop moving, that he truly realizes the weight of the situation.

Trembling with exertion, Eren sits on the pavement, eyes wide.

_My dad kicked me out._

_My dad kicked me out._

_My dad kicked me out._

The words are repeating over and over in Eren’s head, and he doesn’t even realise he’s crying until he can taste the tears in his mouth.

It’s salty, and gross, and it only makes him cry harder because he doesn’t _understand._ He doesn’t understand what’s so wrong with liking other guys, and he doesn’t understand why that one fact alone has made his father go crazy. Sure, Grisha’s never been the best dad, but he’s always tried his best.

And Eren knows that his father has a temper, but he never thought it would end up with him on the streets, terrified for his life. And for fuck’s sake, Eren’s just a kid. He’s sixteen, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been more scared or unsure in his entire life. He doesn’t know where he’s supposed to go, and he wonders, briefly, if he should’ve come up with a backup plan. He just never imagined it would ever escalate to Grisha kicking him out. After all, his father has never expressed any homophobic thinking before. But then again, his father never really expressed anything at all.

Shivering from the sudden, cold wind, Eren wraps his arms around himself, standing up slowly as his legs threaten to give out underneath him. They feel like wet noodles, and he’s surprised that they’re even supporting him at all. His lavender sweater sticks to his sweaty skin, and the rainbow flower crown he was originally wearing has long since slipped off in his panic to get out of the house.

The thought only brings on a fresh batch of tears because _that flower crown was his favourite._

And it’s not fair, Eren thinks and he sobs and stumbles down a row of houses he’s not familiar with. It’s not fair that he has to leave his house, and it’s not fair that his wrists are _killing him,_ and that his feet are definitely bleeding.

His entire body has begun to hurt, but none of that even comes close to the caving-in of his chest. It feels like betrayal of the worse kind. Because Eren always thought that his father’s love was unconditional, but that was obviously a lie.

His father doesn’t love him.

And, when a sinking finality, Eren realises that he really doesn’t have anyone left.

_Who else is there to depend on?_

Wiping away the tears, Eren sniffles, trying to look at the streets signs because he’s definitely lost. He’s never gone in this direction before despite living in the area for the past two years. The houses all look pretty decent sized, and most of them look occupied. The streets, however, only have a few dwellers, and most of them are kids who don’t bother to look at the pastel, crying teen making his way down the street with a limp.

With much effort, Eren quickens his pace, wincing with every step as the blisters on his feet continues to bleed, and his wrists are aggravated over and over again. The duffle bag, he swears, is getting heavier with each step.

It’s painful to move, and it’s painful to think, so Eren tries to only do the former to spare himself the emotional damage. Although, in retrospect, it’s a little too late for that.

He’s so distracted by the pain that he doesn’t notice he’s crashed into a person until they’re both tumbling.

“Oh my god!” Eren exclaims, ignoring his own scraped knees as he frantically starts the help the person up. The person grunts, pushing Eren away, before getting up on his own with his mouth twisted into a scowl.

“What the fuck?” The person grumbles, brushing himself up with a look of disgust on his face. With much contempt, he looks at Eren, and Eren freezes from his spot on the pavement.

The person he bumped into is actually a boy, probably not much older than Eren himself. He has an undercut, broad shoulders, a trim waist, and heavy-lidded gray eyes.

 _He’s hot,_ Eren notes, but a hot boy doesn’t really make him feel much better. In fact, it makes him feel worse.

“Sorry,” Eren says again, stumbling to his feet only to fall back down with a hiss. Fuck, he really should’ve worn better shoes, and he probably should do something about his wrists.

The other person’s eyebrows furrow, and he makes a sound of surprise when Eren falls back down, reaching forward to help him. “Holy shit, kid. Are you okay?”

Breathing heavily, and trying not to get too flustered or panicked, Eren lets out a breathy laugh. Although it ends up sounding more like a cry. “I’m fine,” Eren tries, but the tears falling down his cheeks make him ridiculously pathetic, even to himself. “I’m fine,” he tries again, but his voice cracks like broken glass, and he decides that he’s not fooling anyone anytime soon.

Trying to hold in his sobs, Eren peers up to the hot guy through his eyelashes, his tears blurring his vision. “I’m sorry for crashing into you. Are you hurt?”

The hot guy raises an eyebrow, helping Eren to his feet. His voice is soft, and his earlier annoyance is gone when he says, “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You look like a mess.”

Eren, now standing with the hot guy’s help, picks his duffle bag off the floor from where it fell during the collision, and he tries to dust himself off. He doesn’t really know what to say to the hot guy, so he doesn’t say anything at all, focusing his attention on trying not to fall again.

His knees are week, and his entire body feels like it’s been battered with a baseball bat. And he’s so exhausted that he might just faint.

There’s a moment of silence where it’s just Eren being supported by the hot guy. But then the hot guy says, “What’s your name? I’m Levi.”

And Eren blinks through his tears, and then blinks again, because _why the fuck_ is the hot guy—Levi—introducing himself to the crying kid who crashed into him?

There’s another moment of silence when Eren tries to calm his crying and collect his thoughts. And he wonders if he should give Levi his name before realising that he has nothing to lose.

_I have nothing._

His shoulders slump, a dark cloud hovering over him, and he says, “I’m Eren.” His voice is meek, and barely loud enough to be heard, but Levi seems to hear it just fine.

The tears don’t seem to want to stop, so Eren just lets them fall, knowing full well that he doesn’t even have the energy to bother wiping them away. “Sorry, sorry,” Eren says once his tears start to stain Levi’s hoodie.

Levi shakes his head, concern etched all over his face, and he lets go of Eren. “Are you okay?” Levi asks, immediately back to supporting Eren once Eren starts to sway.

It’s ridiculous how upset Eren is. But then again, not really. After all, he did just get kicked out. And after all, he’s hurt, cold, and completely done with the day. He wants nothing more than to reset the day and pretend that he never said anything to his father. Sure, it’ll hurt to play straight. But he’s sure that it’ll hurt less than this.

Eren, deciding not to lie, shakes his head _no,_ and he watches as Levi frowns, sympathetic.

“My house is right down the street,” Levi offers, and Eren find that he can’t really deny the invitation. Did he mention that he’s hurt, cold, and completely done with the day? Yes, yes he did, so an invitation to rest doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world.

And there’s also the fact that Levi looks to be his age, so he’s not too worried that Levi’s a pedophile trying to get in his pants. And, worryingly enough, Eren doesn’t think he’ll care if he’s being invited over to be murdered. Being murdered doesn’t sound all that bad.

So, Eren nods, and he can only hope that he’s made a good choice when a tiny  smile graces Levi’s lips.

* * *

The inside of Levi’s house is warm, but it’s also empty.

“My parents are at work,” Levi offers even though Eren doesn’t say anything. But Eren stores the information anyway, nodding. “Here, sit on the couch.”

Graciously accepting Levi’s invitation, Eren plops onto the couch, his feet bloody and stinging. He took his slippers off the moment he got into Levi’s house, but he thinks that maybe he shouldn’t have because Levi’s staring at his feet in disbelief.

“What the fuck did you do?” Levi asks, rushing over to inspect his injured feet.

Eren shrugs. “I ran in those abominations,” Eren says, pointing to his slippers by the door, and Levi grimaces.

“Why?”

Eren shrugs again, mumbling out a barely decipherable, “I don’t know.”

Levi looks up, frowning, and then he looks back down at Eren’s bloody feet. With a gentle touch, he slowly rubs at a dirt stain on Eren’s heal. “Eren,” Levi starts, enunciating each word with care. “Where do you even live?”

“104th Road,” Eren says. “Why?”

He watches, confused, and Levi flounders for a moment before shrieking, “104th Road?!” Levi’s composure is fractured for the moment as fidgets, eyes widening in disbelief. Eren winces at the loud noise, nodding, as he wonders why it’s such a big deal. “Eren,” Levi says, this time much more gently. “You know that’s like three miles away, right?”

Eren’s mouth opens. _Oh._ So it wasn’t just four blocks after all.

“Did you run the entire way?” Levi asks, mouth opening when Eren nods again. “What the fuck?” Levi exclaims, standing up. He closes his eyes briefly, breathing in and out slowly, before opening them with a leveled calm in his eyes. “Stay here,” he orders. “I need to get some things.”

Eren watches, already missing Levi’s company as he goes and gets some gauze and rubbing alcohol from a cupboard. Levi then closes all the opened cupboards, looks behind him to see if he’s forgotten anything, and quickly returns to kneeling back down at Eren’s feet. He takes them gingerly into his hands, lips pulled downwards as he observes the angry blisters. “What the fuck caused you to for three miles, carrying a duffle bag, in plastic slippers?”

“My dad kicked me out,” Eren mumbles before he really thinks it through. He can feel a flush of embarrassment, and a little bit of resentment, crawl up his neck, and he hides his face in a cushion to hide it. He can feel tears prick his eyes again, but he’s glad that at least Levi can’t see them.

“Oh,” he hears Levi breathe. _“Oh.”_

Eren doesn’t respond, not even sure if he’s supposed to, and Levi doesn’t speak either as he works on Eren’s feet, disinfecting each of them with care. The rubbing alcohol burns, but it doesn’t burn as much as Eren’s shame.

There’s a long moment of silence as Levi wraps up each of Eren’s feet, taking great care to not touch the raw skin too much, before he speaks. “Any particular reason as to why your old man kicked you out?” His voice, although soft, still makes Eren wince.

“I came out as gay,” Eren admits, voice muffled by the cushion, until he realizes what he just said. He immediately tenses, berating himself for running his mouth. After all, there’s always the possibility that Levi’s homophobic as well, and Eren doesn’t think he can handle someone else chasing him out. He thinks that if Levi tosses him out too, he might just lie on the ground and never get up. He doesn’t want to look up and meet Levi’s piercing eyes. He never wants to look up again. It hurts, and he feels as if he’s prying open his own chest just by sharing something so simple with someone else.

There’s a pause as Levi thinks of what to say, and he finally settles for a cliché, “I’m sorry.”

Eren finds that he doesn’t mind the cliché phrase, and that it actually helps ease some of the ache in his chest, as well as the panic. He lets out a breath, surprised by the genuine amount of relieve he feels. “I’ll be okay,” Eren says, even though he doesn’t really believe it. After all, how’s he supposed to reply to an apology that wasn’t necessary in the first place?

Levi hums, finished with Eren’s feet before sitting on the couch next to him. “Any other injuries?” Levi asks, and Eren finally looks up once he feels the couch shift with Levi’s weight.

Shyly, he holds up his wrists, trying to blink away the remaining tears. It doesn’t work, of course, but that doesn’t stop him from trying anyway, even as a trail of tears start to silently carve its way down his face.

Gingerly, Levi takes Eren’s wrists and observes them, wincing in sympathy at the bruising. “How did this even happen?” Levi asks, not really directing it at Eren.

Although it was more of a rhetorical question, Eren finds himself answering it anyway. “My dad pushed me.”

Something akin to anger lights up briefly in Levi’s eyes before it disappears. But Eren’s positive he saw it, and the protectiveness of Levi makes him, somehow, warmer. Maybe it’s because his father has never been protective of him, or maybe it’s because he’s comfort-starved. But whatever the reason is, Eren finds that he doesn’t mind.

The moment passes, though, once Levi starts to prod the bruised wrists.

“Ow!” Eren exclaims, drawing them back slightly. “That hurts.”

“Sorry,” Levi mumbles, coaxing his arms back out. “There’s not much to do about bruising, and I’m shit with stuff like this, so I’ll just get you some ice, okay?”

Looking at his neatly-patched feet, Eren finds it hard to believe that Levi’s ‘shit at stuff like this,’ but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he nods, trying to collect his melancholy. Levi gets up from the couch, and Eren’s body nearly tilts over from the shift, but he manages to remain upright. His long sweater is covered is icky muck, and Eren’s really just wants to throws all his clothes off, curl up under clean sheets, and go to sleep.

But then Levi comes back, frozen bag in hand, and Eren’s dirty sweater is momentarily forgotten.

“Thanks,” Eren whispers when he takes the ice, pressing it to his wrist.

“Here,” Levi takes the ice back. “Let me do it. That way, both of your wrists can get iced at the same time.”

Eren nods, holding his wrists out, and he watches as Levi wraps a thick towel around the bag of ice. He notices Eren’s curious gaze and says, “This way, it won’t be too cold.”

Eren nods, accepting the answer, and sighs in relief once the cool material is set on his bruised and beaten skin. The lessening of pain is instantaneous, and Levi’s small, unconscious smile makes it all the better. He’s not only hot, but he’s also really pretty. Okay, maybe pretty’s not exactly the right word. As Eren stares at the edges of Levi’s body, and the curve of his neck, he finds that perhaps elegant fits Levi’s description better.

_I won’t have anywhere to go after this._

The sudden though hits him out of nowhere, and Eren nearly reels back. Thankfully, he manages to stop himself, but his sudden change in demeanor doesn’t go unnoticed by Levi.

“What’s wrong?” Levi asks, brushing at Eren’s tears with a soft stroke of the hand.

The act of tenderness and affection is so surprising that Eren only cries harder, struggling not to clutch Levi and just _let go_.

 _You’re a stranger. You’re not supposed to care,_ Eren wants to say, but he doesn’t. Instead, he lets Levi wipe away his tears, and he lets Levi trail a tentative, cold finger down his cheek.

“I have nowhere to go,” Eren says weakly, hiccuping. His arms are shaking with strain from being held up, so he sets them down, and Levi sets the ice down with them.

“Come closer,” Levi says, and Eren obeys.

He shuffles closer, relishing in Levi’s warmth, and he’s really only mildly surprised when Levi throws his arms around him.

It feels nice, Eren relishes, burying his face into Levi’s sweater. Trying not to be overly obvious, he breathes in Levi’s sent.

He smells of fresh air and autumn leaves, Eren decides. Not perfumy, but definitely clean.

“Stay here, with me,” Levi offers, mouth next to Eren’s ear as his breath tickles the nape of his neck. And Eren freezes for a second, contemplating, before melting back into Levi’s embrace.

Levi’s been nothing but kind to him since the moment Eren crashed into him. And Levi cleaned his scrapes and patched up him. And Levi’s showing Eren more comfort and affection than Eren’s ever received in his entire life.

 _I won’t have anywhere to go after this,_ Eren’s mind reminds him again.

_But who says that there has to be an ‘after this?’_

“Okay,” Eren says, mind made, and he means it. After all, his father doesn’t want him, and he has nowhere else to go. And after all, he finds that Levi’s embrace is far warmer than Eren’s fluffy socks and sweaters, and he finds that Levi’s smile is much more beautiful than any flower crown that Eren’s ever owned.

“Okay,” Eren repeats, voice getting tuck in his throat. “I’ll stay.”

With shaking shoulders, he folds himself completely against Levi until there’s no space left, and he stays there, finally at ease.

Levi’s body is strong underneath the fabric, and Eren wants to run his hands through Levi’s hair because it looks so _soft_. But he’s well aware of how creepy that will be, so he keeps his yearning to himself. Even so, on a whim, he presses his cheek against Levi’s chest, and Levi doesn’t seem to mind. Even when Eren’s sure that the thumping he hears is Levi’s heartbeat, and that the speed of it matches his own.

 _It’s warm,_ he wants to tell Levi, and he doesn’t know why it seems important, but it does.

 _Warm,_ like his fuzzy socks.

 _Warm,_ like a cup of hot chocolate in the evening.

 _Warm,_ like the sun on his shoulders in the afternoon, and like the blanket he crawls into before bed.

 _Warm,_ like comfort. Warm like Levi.


End file.
